Tag Archives: satire

BALLROOM

BALLROOM

we Brits (was once Brit)
two centuries ago
torched
your White House

but now
the special relationship
all is forgiven
all is
forgotten

and now, anyway, you
hard at work
knocking it down
(Donald confesses to
loving that sound)

but soon
to be revised, restored,
resurrected
into a glorious ballroom,
divinely beautiful
fit not
just for a King
but for a god

a people’s palace, open
to all
and sundry just
so long
as they be corporate, so
long as they bank billions

fantastic fever dream structure
that simply
pulls out all the stops

promises to give you
space to
express yourself to
trip the light
fantastic
waltz, tango, whiskey, Charlie,
delta

enough floor to
park your wings on
(returning from
street
ICE sortie)
enough
to put the
Enterprise
to shame

help
fix the
Governance of America

that no one
will
dance
out of step
play
different tune,

mess
with the waltz

rewrite
the text of this sacred script

that gave
us the blueprint for
this insatiable dream

MR ORANGE MAN

MR ORANGE MAN

you told the soldiers
to stand up straight
lose weight

know
who’s the boss

stream
in single file
loaded
and locked

off
to the gym

need
to look beautiful
get into
shape, stay
trim

for all those enemies
without, and within,
especially within

told them
to fight the good
fight
love

the sight
of blood
(neither forgiveness
nor redemption
international law, code
of honour, Geneva
Convention)

all rules
of engagement, out
the window, thrown
into question

to clap
for their Emperor, save
his approval ratings

to which god-given
command they
did not
respond

such poker-faced
warriors

they will not
last long

(too much
internal enemy
still
    nestling
within them)

STING

STING

The Master told her
a page
is like a lover
waiting to
be touched

demanding
to be explored

at which
point she frowned
not
  fot the first time

reminding him, with
due respect
       as his student
with
    so much
   to learn

that the words on
some pages
are satirical, no
nonsense

cut
  to the bone

carry a sting
sharply pointed, venomous,
touch
   them at
your peril

not big
on that
love-touch thing

WHOLE PACKAGE

WHOLE PACKAGE

this is my
          box

my beautiful package
devised, constructed, fabricated
to enhance,
         verify, verify, rectify
this most wonderful
of weapons

so many thousands pointed
at each other (every
megaton worth
millions)

so now we have
more than enough to go round
protection, satisfaction
for all
     no one to go needy
we guarantee you your share

so just put them in this box
here according to the wording
looks so nondescript
but it’s
marvellous, glorious I swear

look how eager it is
to embrace,
     sword-swallow each
pointed warhead

turn them into
art, sheer poetry, true
beauty
    as they disappear

somewhere, anywhere, nowhere
who gives a flying f where
they went to
      disappeared to

leaving us
cold and alone no hope
of
   final winter
ultimate prophecy

not the case with
all those
      other worlds in
their parallel universes

ours
    somehow surviving
beating impossible odds
of so
    doing, of our
contriving to do so

a blip
on a switch, screen
misread, word
mistranslated

they got the required treatment
the whole package as detailed

.
    

MARIONETTE

MARIONETTE

I was
interviewed by a,
marionette

someone ardently, adroitly,
pulling, plucking the strings
behind the scenes

was from network or
other, I forget which one,
CNN, FOX, BBC
much
of a muchness
if you ask me

someone
working those strings making
them sing
though I would
struggle against
the grain to
call it lyrical

too much
noise, dissonance,
same old same

English words
on life support begging
for death, screaming to be free

I was
interviewed by a marionette
sent
to get my fist
publicly expose me

narrative
confirmed, truth out
the door

left me
to my thoughts, not
good ones either

better by far
had they sent a robot
AI intelligence never
so
well programmed

if had
left
me be
better infinitely more
than entirely

DANCING WITH THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN

DANCING WITH THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN

was heading due west
when the wheel
started to splinter, come
away in my hand

seemed like a vortex out there
demonic triangle
         portal pulling me in
ghost ships
     flying dutchmen following
me into
   that gorgeous abyss
(sphere of the zombie, land
of the dead)

where, to be fair, I would find
locale most congenial
to consort
   with Frankenstein’s creature’s
bride

the two of us in true tango,
monstering out first midnight together

drone
of supreme dissonance
about to
   switch off my brain

and yet how
we spin
    across the floor
illusion of
free movement
delusion of light speed

whilst
    eyes still locked inward
split, almost dismembered
the limbs
  scrabbling for somewhere
treading
     ice water dragged across
the spectrum, shuttled forward
back like
      a ball in ping pong between
what we are told
are complete hyperbolic poles

and now for
our videofest, hook up
for the podcast

think up
some catastrophic leveling
skimming like a
cruise missile, like
an angel of abomination
targeting
    all hearts if
we have them

as I repent all
my falsehoods, so
shamefully having lied to you
              to preserve my power
keep
my inverted commas innocence

not a deus ex machina
but brutal blade of a guillotine
falls and released
                           it is
just
the end of the poem

UP TO SCRATCH

UP TO SCRATCH

when I arrived in Hell
was stunned to find
the place empty
the only
evil soul there

so to kill a bit of eternity
the devils and I played pool
sank some beers
    discussed the state
of the world
and humanity
from a left-wing perspective

marking time for the torturers
to ready their equipment
         the inquisitors in
Hell’s hierarchy
to stoke their fabled fires

get my suffering
up to scratch

OR SO YOU BELIEVE


OR SO YOU BELIEVE

déshabillé
(or so you believe)

whereas I would say
too much is divulged
subtext is showing

paradigm so exposed
to the ruination of your reputation

need a cover up
    heads to
spin

though my own stock-
in-trade be
scarcely golden

seems like you may just
have rushed too pre-
cipitously into
some bad
media alchemy

and now
    are looking high and low
under every bombed structure
for each
   and every collateral

making such a racket to
deflect our eyes
       from the hypocrisy

the place
reduced to a desert
carnage
      beyond words

sad that what might have
served poetry
   bent out of shape to
sustain
   the war industry

defend
     death’s exceptionally

make the case for a rapture
thing so sickly sweet

will
   annihilate the need for
theology
        morality, humanity

basic kindness and love
the species professed to hold dear